


One More Night

by Lonery



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonery/pseuds/Lonery
Summary: After an unknown illness wipes out humanity, two survivors leave on a journey with no real direction, goal, or destination.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,,,, am back,,,, like half a year later,,,,,,,, I missed you,,,,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> Does anyone even remember me
> 
> Oumota fandom is just 15 people shouting really loudly so I hope so,,,
> 
> As always, huge thanks to Emer for betaing, love you bro

The quiet hissing and crackling of an old radio faded out, the once cozy and lively apartment falling into a, quite literal, dead silence. Momota gave the device a couple of sluggish smacks to the side, making sure it really was done for. The batteries must’ve finally died. Not that it even mattered. It’d been playing nothing but white noise ever since humanity had withered away.

How long _had_ it been? Days? Weeks? Felt like forever. Like nothing else had ever existed. Like all of Momota’s life before the outbreak was just a dream he had once had while lying helplessly on his bedroom floor, waiting for his turn at life that never came. However long it’d been, it was enough to get used to even the nauseating stench of decay that now enveloped the entire city– no, the entire nation.

With a quiet groan, Momota got up from the floor, left the bedroom and stumbled towards the kitchen in the complete darkness. He mechanically flicked the light switch along the way, which still didn’t do anything.

He grabbed a glass, filled it with tap water and took a sip. Probably wasn’t safe, but Momota had long since stopped caring. If the disease could kill him, then surely it would’ve done so by now.

Though the blinds on the kitchen window blocked out most of the light, he could still make out the outline of the ajar door to his grandparents’ room. Both of their bodies were still in there. Momota couldn’t bring himself to get rid of them. Wouldn’t be much point to that, anyway…

He shook his head. He couldn’t stand thinking about this. He was tired. So goddamn tired of this apartment. Of this silence. Of this smell. Of this utter boredom and loneliness. Day after day, doing nothing, just wasting time, waiting for his belated death to finally come. It was more than welcome at this point.

Unable to look in the door’s direction any more than he already had, he turned to the window and pulled up the blinds a little bit. He didn’t know what he was expecting to see – he was sick of this despair-inducing view just as much as he was of the apartment. An empty road, a corner of a below-average convenience shop, and a couple of rotting corpses. At least, that’s what he was used to seeing…

Momota’s heart skipped a beat. There, on the road, something was different. Some _one._ A person, another living human being, crouching in front of one of the bodies.

Momota didn’t look for a second longer before rushing out the door. He didn't bother trying to make out the person's appearance, what they were doing, or anything of the sort. He didn't have time to confirm anything, he didn't care if he was just seeing things, he couldn't waste this chance–

He ran down the apartment complex’s stairs, around the corner, and the street was already in sight…

Empty.

The street was empty.

As if no one had ever been there.

Had Momota just imagined it after all? Had he finally lost his mind from the loneliness? Was he…

“Sup,” someone lightly pushed Momota’s back, making him jump in surprise and take a few steps forward.

“Nishishi,” the person snickered. “Did I scare ya?”

Momota finally got a good look at them. A short boy wearing dusty white rags and a checkered scarf, with messy dark hair turned bright purple at its ends. His playful sparkling eyes looked right at Momota, waiting for him to respond.

“Well?” he asked with a smirk. “Are you just going to keep staring at me?”

“You’re… alive,” Momota finally managed to speak.

“Yep, thanks for noticing,” the boy rested his hands behind his head, giving the other the most nonchalant grin Momota had ever seen.

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Wow, aren’t you a self-centered one?” the boy raised an eyebrow. “What, did you think you were the chosen one or some dumb shit like that?”

“No, that’s not what I meant–”

“I could leave, you know,” the boy’s voice suddenly contained a harsh note. “If you want to be ‘the only one’. It’s not a problem for me at all.”

No, no, no… Anything but that. Not when he’d finally come across someone in this godforsaken place… “No, wait,” in a panic, he reached forward and grabbed the boy’s hand. “Don’t leave.”

“Hmm?” the other narrowed his eyes, the smirk crawling back onto his face. “And why would I do that? I don’t know you. I don’t care about you. And now you’re grabbing me without my permission, I should probably get away from you as fast as I can, you creep.”

“R-Right, sorry,” Momota stuttered, letting go of his hand. The boy immediately took a step back and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Give me _one_ good reason why I shouldn’t just leave here right now.”

Momota hesitated. There was _no_ good reason. Momota just didn’t want him to. Momota didn't want to go back to his dead apartment. Momota didn’t want to live out the rest of his life alone. All those reasons were just about Momota, there was nothing for the other party to gain. He’d just assumed that anybody in this situation would’ve been as eager as him to stick with any other survivors, but maybe he’d thought wrong–

The boy sighed. “I guess an extra pair of hands _would_ be useful…” he muttered, as if only to himself, but obviously loud enough for Momota to hear. “If he tagged along, he could help out with all the heavy lifting and stuff…” 

Momota perked up. “Yes. That. I can do that.”

“Oh? You don't even know what I'm talking about. You still want to come?”

“I mean…”

He was down with whatever, as long as that meant having another living person by his side…

The boy stepped forward. “Well, do you?”

He just wanted Momota to say it, didn’t he?

“Okay, fine, _yes._ I want to come with you, wherever that is.”

“Nishishi,” the boy giggled. “Good. Hoped you’d say that.”

“Hoped?”

“Well, yeah,” he put his hands behind his head again. “I was going to make you come with me no matter what you said, but I’d rather it be a voluntary thing, y’know?”

Momota blinked, trying to process how someone so unintimidating would ‘make him come with him’ if he refused.

“Anyway,” he continued, “there’s a gas station a few blocks down,” he pointed in the road’s direction. “Go get us a car, I’ll prepare everything else here in the meantime.”

“A car?” Momota repeated.

“M-hm. We’re leaving the city, ASAP. Make sure there's plenty of room in the back, the more the better…” the boy stopped, suddenly hit by a realization. “You _can_ drive, right?” he gave Momota a judgmental look.

“Ah, y-yeah.”

“Get to it, then.”

Suddenly Momota wasn’t so sure if tagging along with this guy was such a good idea…

* * *

“…Could be bigger,” the short boy finally said after staring at the car Momota had parked on the street the two had met on.

“It’s the only one I could get started, take it or go find another one yourself,” Momota replied.

“Nah, this one’ll do,” the other shrugged. “Just don’t expect me to share the backseat with you at night.” He stepped away from the car and walked over to a stack of cardboard boxes that weren’t there when they’d last talked. “Get these loaded and let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Wait,” Momota interrupted. “Aren’t you gonna fill me in on what we’re even doing?”

“No, why would I?” the boy raised an eyebrow. “I’m giving you orders. That should be enough.”

Ohhh no, this wasn’t going to fly.

“Listen here, you lil’ shit,” Momota raised his voice.

“Oh? Well, you recoiled quickly. Weren’t you begging me to take you with me a mere hour ago?”

“I–”

“If you’re not gonna make yourself useful, feel free to go rot away in a ditch somewhere for all I care. Doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

“I’m expecting to at least know what the fuck I’m doing,” Momota finally got to have his say.

“What you’re _doing_ is getting us out of this shithole, now get to it.”

“Why? What’s the hurry?”

“Well, do you _want_ to stay here?”

“No, but…” Momota hesitated for a moment. “What’s the point? It’s not like any other place would be better.”

The boy sighed. “Just… just do it, would you? I don’t care where, just… not here.” His voice cracked a little.

Shit… The other tried to not let it show, but Momota could tell he’d accidentally struck a nerve…

“…Okay,” he finally gave in. “I’ll go along for now. But don’t expect me to just obey you without question.”

No response. The boy was just standing there, trying not to make eye contact. Momota… didn’t do anything wrong, did he? No, there was no way. He was in the right. He couldn’t let the other just do whatever the fuck he pleased…

Momota picked up the first box. “What’s in these?” he asked, trying to get the conversation going again.

“Things,” the boy replied, clearly not interested in speaking.

Momota sighed and finished putting the boxes into the trunk in silence.

“Get in,” Momota nodded to the passenger’s seat before getting in himself. The boy obliged, still without saying a word. 

“Where to?” Momota asked. “I know you said you didn’t care, but still…”

“I already told you, just drive.”

Momota clutched the steering wheel in annoyance. Sure, Momota might have said the wrong thing, but did he _have to_ be so passive aggressive about it? He should have been grateful Momota was there with him in the first place…

Still, he did as he was told and started driving. He threw a glance in the other’s direction; he was leaning against the door with his knees raised to his chest and staring out the window with an uneasy look on his face.

“You haven’t told me your name yet,” Momota said, still trying to somehow soothe the tense atmosphere.

“Neither have you.”

“Momota Kaito. Now your turn.”

“…Ouma,” the boy said after a short pause.

“Just Ouma?”

“It’ll do for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to be more active in the comments this time around, hopefully the social anxiety won't be as big of a bitch,,,
> 
> But if I'm not active, that's because Im bad at talking to people, not because i don't read or don't appreciate you. I still reread all the otosotp comments,,, love you guys,,,,


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are slow but they are updates

"Okay, I’m stopping here," Momota said, parking the car a bit off of the road.

 

 _“What?”_ Ouma threw him a glare. “We’ve been driving for a few hours _at most._ We've barely even started.”

 

“It’s dark already.”

 

“So what? You’ve got lights. And even then, it’s not like there’s any cars for you to run into.”

 

“I’m not driving all night just because you said we should.”

 

Ouma clicked his tongue in annoyance.

 

“We have all the time in the world,” Momota continued. “We might as well take it easy.”

 

He was right. Ouma was just too caught up in trying to get as far away from... _that place_ as possible. He'd hoped that getting away would help him forget, or at least not think as much about everything that had gone down, but… it didn’t seem to be working. Maybe he’d feel better in the morning… Maybe. Hopefully.

 

 

"Fine. Have it your way,” Ouma shrugged and undid his seatbelt. “I _was_ thinking we’d find an actual place to stay, but if you _want_ to sleep in the car, don’t let me stop you.”

 

Momota just rolled his eyes.

 

A bit disappointed by the lack of response, Ouma sighed and climbed into the back seat.

 

“G’night…” Momota muttered, barely loud enough to hear.

 

For some reason, something as simple as that managed to catch Ouma off-guard.

 

“Ah… Yeah… You too…”

 

He curled up in the back seat, feeling a slight chill run up his spine as he pressed his legs up to his chest in an attempt to stay warm. The summer was ending, if not over already. It would only get even colder going forward… It was a shame Ouma hadn't found any blankets in what time he had… There _were_ some at the hideout, he could’ve easily gone back for them, but…

 

Ouma shook his head. It was pointless to think about that now.

 

* * *

 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Momota got a decent night's sleep. Despite the cold and uncomfortable car seat, he _slept_. He didn't just stare off into space until the sky outside his window shined brightly. It felt great.

 

He looked into the backseat, only to discover that Ouma wasn't there. God fucking dammit. He should've woken Momota up instead of going somewhere on his own…

 

Already having accepted that he'd have to go and look for the little gremlin, he stepped out of the car. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much looking that needed to be done.

 

“Momota-chan, good morning!” he heard Ouma's excited voice as soon as he opened the door. The boy was crouching in the middle of the road in front of a small campfire, surrounded by twigs, broken branches, and cardboard boxes. His eyes were glued to a small cast-iron kettle steaming over the fire.

 

Momota walked closer. “What are you doing?” he asked.

 

“Breakfast, duh.”

 

After a bit of hesitation, Momota also crouched down by the fire. Judging by the state of the burning branches and the boiling water, Ouma’d been busy for quite some time now. Just how early had he woken up to set this up? How’d he manage to find dry wood in all this mist, anyway?

 

“Here,” keeping his eyes pointed towards the ground, Ouma placed an empty mug next to Momota.

 

“Where’d you get these?”

 

“What did you think was in those boxes I made you drag around?” he raised an eyebrow.

 

“…’Stuff’?”

 

“Yep,” Ouma sighed. “It’s mostly food, really. Whatever I could find that hasn’t gone completely bad.” As if to demonstrate, he reached into the box and pulled out a plastic bag of clumsily cut bread, along with a packet of instant coffee. “Want some?” he asked, finally lifting his eyes a bit.

 

“Ah, yeah…”

 

“Okay, one sec…”

 

Momota silently watched Ouma fill more than half of his mug with coffee powder before handing him the packet.

 

“Here,” Ouma said, a subtle smile appearing on his face, as if there was nothing wrong about this.

 

“Dude. What the fuck.”

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“Aren’t you only supposed to put a few teaspoons in there?”

 

Ouma paused for a second, his large violet eyes blinking in confusion. “That’s how I always make it.”

 

“How are you alive?”

 

“I really don’t see what the problem is, Momota-chan,” he casually lifted the kettle off of the flame and poured the water into his mug. “It’s fine if you don’t like coffee, you don’t have to be a bitch about it and ruin everyone else’s fun.” He took a sip and shrugged. “Tastes fine to me. Here, try it,” with a shit-eating grin, he held out his mug to Momota.

 

The smell radiating off of it was comparable to sticking your nose into the coffee packet itself.

 

"Why would I?" Momota asked. "I know it'll taste bad, there's more powder than water in that fucking thing."

 

"Can't be that bad if I'm drinking it," Ouma narrowed his eyes, his grin growing wider. "Besides, aren't you curious? Even if you know you won't like it, don't you want to _know_ how it'll taste?"

 

Momota stayed silent.

 

"Well, suit yourself," Ouma shrugged and took another sip.

 

"No, wait-" Momota said without thinking.

 

"Wanna taste?" Ouma's eyes sparkled.

 

"...Yeah."

 

Ouma gave Momota the mug and waited for him to lift it up to his lips. "I'm telling you, it's not that bad," he said with a smirk.

 

It was, in fact, that bad. Momota’s face reflexively scrunched up as soon as the thick liquid came in contact with his tongue.

 

"Nishishi," Ouma giggled. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? “Can’t handle black coffee, Momota-chan?”

 

“That’s not black, that’s bullshit!” He placed the mug back on the ground next to Ouma, as far away from his person as possible. "You _like_ that crap? You're fucking weird. Your taste is weird. I'm not letting you be in charge of food, you hear?"

 

Ouma giggled again. "Need a palate cleanser, you fucking wuss?" He waved a slice of bread in the air.

 

"Give me that…" Momota muttered, reaching forward and taking it from Ouma. "Got anything to put on it?" he asked, watching the other boy reach back into the plastic bag and shove a plain piece of bread into his mouth.

 

"How 'bout you stop being a little bitch and just eat already? We don't have all day."

 

"We _do,_ though…"

 

Ouma glared at him.

 

"Okay, okay, fine. Geez…" Momota sighed, taking a bite himself.

 

He didn't even know bread could harden to this extent.

 

“’Not completely bad’?” Momota gave the other boy a doubtful look. “Dude, this is stale as fuck.”

 

Ouma's eyes rolled in annoyance. “Stale is still edible, dumbass. How long do you think it’s been laying around already? We don’t have that much time until all we’re left with is just fucking cans that last for decades. Enjoy the variety while it lasts. It’ll all be downhill from here.”

 

Momota eyed the hard, dry rectangle in his hand.

 

"You say that as if surviving off of leftovers is the only way."

 

"And you're saying that it's not? You want to make your own stuff from scratch? Want to start a farm? Want to rebuild civilization or some dumb shit like that?"

 

“It can’t be _that_ hard.”

 

Ouma looked at him in disbelief. “You _are_ saying that, aren’t you? Who do you think you are? You’re just some dumbass who didn’t die when he was supposed to, don’t act like you’re a hero whose destiny is to raise humanity back from its grave.”

 

“Well, first of all, I didn’t say anything like that, and second–”

 

“Give it up now, you idiot. If you do, it’ll be easier to accept your pointless death when it comes.”

 

“How can you _still_ think that?” Momota raised his voice. “I know what you mean. I _was_ just waiting to die before you showed up, but… how can you possibly still think it’s all pointless now, when I’m _talking to you?_ You and me are the living fucking proof that it’s not over yet. There might be more people out there. Don’t you want to try and find them?”

 

“Not really, no.”

 

 _“Why not?_ Do you have anything better to do?”

 

After a short pause, Ouma sighed. “What’s the point of anything, Momota-chan?”

 

“Are you serious with that shit right now?”

 

“You act as if we’re the survivors or whatever, but… the apocalypse’s not over, Momota-chan. It’s still going. We might still die at any time.”

 

“So what? You were going to die someday _without_ the apocalypse happening, was there no point back then either?!"

 

Ouma just pulled his knees closer to his chest and lowered his eyes.

 

"Besides, we've survived just fine so far, haven’t we? For some reason, we must be immune to whatever killed everyone else…”

 

“You don’t know that. It might just be taking longer for it to kill us.”

 

 _“You_ don’t know that either.” This conversation was starting to get on Momota’s nerves. "I don't get you. What's your plan? You made it seem as if you had at least _some_ idea of what you wanted to do, but you _don't_ , do you? Yet here you are, acting like you're better than me for dragging me out of my apartment when you're exactly the same fucking way, if not worse."

 

"I'm not the one who begged to be taken along. Just saying."

 

Momota's body moved on its own. It reached forward and slapped Ouma across his face.

 

“Very mature, Momota-chan,” he muttered without skipping a beat, completely unphased, eyes still glued to the ground.

 

“Are you always like this? Because you’re seriously starting to piss me off.”

 

“Who knows… You can leave if you want to. Doesn't matter to me. I just wanted to get out of that place, I don't really care about what happens next."

 

Momota took a deep breath. “We'll see about that…”

 

They finished their breakfast in silence.

 

* * *

 

Ouma rested his head against the car window, watching the monotone, unchanging scenery rush past him. He traced his hand along his cheek, which was still slightly warm from the slap.

 

This wasn’t like him. Just sitting there, moping to himself, not even bothering to hide it… Ouma had to pull himself together already… But he was in the right, wasn’t he? Even if there were more people, there was no point. The only people Ouma had ever cared about were…

 

He sighed. He didn’t know what to think. Everyone would've wanted him to live on. He should’ve been happy to find another living person, but he just… wasn’t. A part of him wished the two of them had never met, so he could have kept thinking that he was the only one left…

 

But then, why had he bothered to approach Momota in the first place?


End file.
